They Named Me Sara


They named me Sara. It means “Little Princess” or so my father told me once upon a time as I sat on his knee. I don’t know when the memories replaced the years. I don’t know when I became me. At forty some years of age I have begun to awaken. I have begun to look back and forward at the same time. Until now I have been wandering, drifting, floating through life. And so now, I stop. I promise myself that I will make plans and goals. But soon, I save my document, turn off the computer and my real life begins again.

I believe that there are all these minute events and people and situations that come together and form each one of us. Wifts of cigar smoke from a grandfather, smiles of mischievous brothers, big sisters’ tugs on pony tails, best childhood friends, kick the can games, fast bike rides, campouts in the backyard and swimming in the creek. For myself, the creation of a woman began as the adventures of a tomboy.

I am the youngest girl of a family of six boys and six girls. That does not mean that I am the baby of the family. No, my brother, Andy, grudgingly holds that position. Though it seems as though we have always been the same age, Andy is actually two years younger than me. Andy and Sara, some would say, two peas in a pod, childhood companions, soul mates, and buddies. I looked up to him and he always watched out for me. We rose from the earth. Dirty little feet, tangled wind blown hair and the smell of the great outdoors clinging to our sturdy little bodies. Smudges on our faces never matched the one’s on our hearts. We were poor, we wore hand me down clothes and ran barefoot all summer long. We watched our parents and our older siblings struggle and work. We played in the spare moments around life’s hardships. Our pride was strong, our hearts true. We never thought we were poor. We adored our family and defended it with all the innocence of our days. We kept it’s secrets and followed the unspoken rules and expectations that were set before we entered it. “Use your manners” “pass all food to the left around the table” “Eat with only one hand, the other on your lap” “Use Please and thank You when asking for seconds” comb your hair, wash your hands and face before supper and no hats at the table.

Security came in knowing what was expected. Never be late for supper. Evenings were sacred with only one thing to do, gather at the table to partake in our nightly ritual. Twelve children around one table with mother saying grace while dad sat silently. After we were satisfied and the huge bowls of food depleted, dad would take out his cigarettes and shake one from the pack to light. Mom would set the pot on for coffee while the girls would clear the table. Even now as a grown woman, I find myself with a tug in the evenings. When the street is dark and the lights go on in the houses along my neighborhood, I long to burst into our house to have delicous smells fill my soul. I long to slink through the quiet darkened living room into the kitchen full of light and warmth and welcome, to see my dad patiently waiting for us to wash up and know that mom will be busy up until the last child sits, filling bowls and fetching dishes.

And so, I feel compelled to write these words. To let the world know of the life I have lived and the feelings my heart has endured. Please join me as I ride this ride. Follow me as we wander back in time or zip to the present only to float somewhere in between and dream about the future. My blogs are simple musings on childhood and adulthood and life and everything in between. I have been given ROOTS and WINGS by my mother. I simply hope to share my wonderful roots and beautiful wings with the world.

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11 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Randy Rauch
    Jul 19, 2012 @ 15:06:26

    Your writings bring me into your childhood like I was there beside you.
    i LOVE IT!

    Reply

  2. Andrew Rauch
    Jul 19, 2012 @ 18:03:59

    Mee too …More More!

    Reply

  3. nora
    Jul 19, 2012 @ 22:41:22

    LOVE IT keep it up, your writings remind me of the writings that i read of grandma’s. they both have the same flow

    Reply

  4. allison niemerg
    Jul 20, 2012 @ 02:28:09

    I LOVE THIS!!!! so beautiful i can’t wait to read more!!

    Reply

  5. Brittany Rauch
    Jul 20, 2012 @ 04:04:13

    Sara- this brought tears to my eyes, thinking of you and my dad as little kids but best friends. Enjoying all of these sooo much! Grandma would be so proud! I wish I had this gift! Keep it up, it really makes me realize how simple life truly is or should be 🙂 love you!

    Reply

  6. annette flood
    Jul 20, 2012 @ 11:19:03

    You have such talent… so proud of you Sara…

    Reply

  7. danroberson
    Nov 29, 2012 @ 00:28:10

    Beautiful story. I really enjoyed reading about your early years.

    Reply

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